


Pigs for the Slaughter

by FadeKhat



Category: Enderal (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Haunted House, Implied Child Abuse, Revisiting Traumatic Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadeKhat/pseuds/FadeKhat
Summary: An encouter with psionics brings the truth of the Prophetess' past into the open.
Relationships: Jespar Dal'Varek & Prophet | Prophetess, Jespar Dal'Varek/Prophet | Prophetess
Kudos: 16





	Pigs for the Slaughter

It would have been a simple enough task in theory, I suppose. I already hated the guy, after all, but this… If only I’d thought ahead for once, I would’ve stashed that damn birth certificate somewhere else before waltzing back into Dal’Geyss’ study.

I’m guess I’m just lucky all his lackey did was take back that bit of paper while I was lying prone on the floor, paralized by strange magics.

“If Dal’Geyss won’t tell you where the black pearl is located, you’ll need to take the knowledge from him,” Yuslan said, indicating the waterstained tome on the Archmagister’s desk. “This spell will allow you to put him under a brief compulsion, just long enough to extract a simple piece of information: a name, a date, a location, anything like that. But you have to be careful -- psionic spells almost always leave a mark,”

I felt the blood drain from my face, the echo of tension running through my arms and legs and spine, like puppet strings.

“And since I’m guessing you don’t have the years of experience necessary to use psionics with any kind of finesse,” the sinistra mage continued, “whatever you ask him for will probably be erased from his mind completely. Keep it simple, ask only direct, targeted--”

“I’ll stop you there. I’m not going to do that.”

Yuslan sighed through his nose, not particularly surprised.

“I’m guessing you have some kind of ethical objection to psionics, then?”

“Yeah, I do. Is that so unusual?”

“No, but, frankly, I thought you were a little more… open minded than that. Seems an arbitrary line to draw considering the number of people you tear through on a weekly basis, anyway.”

“Well, I’ll kill him, sure, sounds like Dal’Geyss has it coming, but I’m not going to rape the man’s mind for you, thanks,” I shot back, a hint of poison seeping into my voice. “If you’re so ‘open minded,’ you do it.”

“We considered that,” Archmagister Lexil cut in, “But Sha’rim lacks your particular talent for stealth -- he could extract the information in theory, yes, but considering how heavily guarded Dal’Geyss’ estate is, it’s unlikely he would get close enough to actually do so.”

“Hm,” I grunted, attempting to swallow my bile.

_ Control yourself,  _ I snapped inwardly.

“There is another option, however. Riskier perhaps, but it wouldn’t require you to employ psionics yourself.”

“And what’s that?”

“We had someone look into the boy’s mother, this Liliaera Skinnersdaughter,” Lexil explained. “She passed a few months ago, but before her death, her neighbors noticed she was visited several times by a supposed ‘apothecari’ named Averil. Liliaera was a rather morose woman, but each time the apoethcari would visit, her mood would seem to lift, and she would become forgetful, as if whole days or weeks were missing from her life.”

“We think this Averil was using psionics to sooth, or manipulate, Liliaera somehow,” Yuslan continued. “If that’s the case, she’ll have experienced any memories or information she tampered with, and might be willing to share it with you.”

“In exchange for?” I prodded.

“Who knows,” the archmagister said. “We’ve heard word that Averil makes her home somewhere in the woods north of Wellwatch. If you take a look, you may be able to find her there.”

“Alright, I’ll head out that way then,” I replied, rising from my seat.

“Ah, not quite yet,” Lexil said, eyes flickering toward Yuslan. “Would you give us a moment, Sha’rim?”

“Of course,” Yuslan said, inclining his head toward me as he passed down into the library. “Best of luck, Prophetess.”

I looked back to the Archmagister.

“Come,” he said, motioning toward a pair of talismen on his desk. “I hope it is not too presumptuous of me to say so, but I suspected you might have some  _ discomfort _ with the use of psionics considering the history of Nehrim’s southern coast.”

I held my face placid, as if the implications of his statement meant nothing to me. He, being Nehrimese himself, knew otherwise.

“So, under the assumption that you would choose to pursue the apothecari in Wellwatch, I prepared these.” He held out one of the talismen toward me. “The enchantment won’t block the effects of psionics completely, but it should help you to maintain some grasp on reality -- you may still see things, or even feel them, but it should make you at least somehwat aware of what is and isn’t an illusion.”

“That’s comforting,” I said, pulling the talisman’s chain over my head. “But why did you make two?”

“Well, I suspect the other one’s for me.”

I turned, and found Jespar standing at the top of the stairwell behind us. He looked considerably fresher than I’d last seen him nearly two weeks ago, almost black out drunk and coasting on glimmerdust in the Silver Cloud.

The prostitutes I didn’t exactly hold against him -- I’d been there myself, probably in that very room, before, and they were a decent group of girls and guys -- it was the words.

_ I don’t care. Sell you out for a penny. What could you hope to offer that I couldn’t pay for. _

Nothing I didn’t deserve, but it still hurt. Not to mention what he’d said about Lysia -- of course, I had not right to judge there. I’d killed his sister, for fucks sake, he could hate me if he wanted to.

Should, in fact.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Archmagister Lexil said, unaware any of that had gone down.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jespar said, cutting across the room to take the other talisman from Lexil’s desk. “The roads are a mess with all these Nehrimese soldiers skulking about, just getting from one Myrad tower to another’s a quest in itself these days.”

“I can only imagine,” Lexil said, pursing his lips in the ghost of a smile. “Psionics are a rather particular school of magic,” he continued, addressing me again, “so I’ve hired Dal’Varek to accompany you, Prophetess. A spell that effects one individual may have little impact on another, so it’s best not to go it alone.”

“This is a lot of build up for one rogue apothecari in the woods, is she really that powerful?”

“Well, I did say this was the riskier option. But an essential one, if we’re going to locate the final black pearl. I suppose I can’t persuade you to change your mind? I know it may  _ seem  _ like a terrible thing, but--”

“No, I’m afraid not. Someone else, but not me.”

“Hm. And we simply don’t have time for that,” Lexil said with a sigh. “Well, best of luck to you both. I suggest you start out immediately.”

“We will,” I said shortly. “Thanks, Lexil.”

I turned, and went down and out into the Suntemple, only looking back to make sure Jespar was following after.

Xxx

“How are you feeling,” I asked as we went down the path into the Noble’s Quarters. No double meaning or anything, I was just interested. And someone had to say something.

“Better,” he said, swiping a hand through his blonde hair. “Not great, but better.”

I only nodded. Times like these, I wish it was acceptable to wear my helmet in the city proper, but covering my face seemed to make the guards uncomfortable. Instead, I kept my expression neutral.

“Look,” he said, pulling off to the side of street. “Before we get out of here and have to spend who knows how long up in each other’s faces, I just want to say I’m sorry. What you saw down there, it wasn’t me at my best. You were right, I was confused, and grieving -- I still don’t know how to deal with what happened to Adila, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

_ What happened to Adilia?  _ I  _ happened to Adila. _

“It’s fine. We’re good, Jespar,” I said reflexively, forcing a tight smile as I went to continue down toward the market.

“Well, that’s good to hear, but really? We’re fine, just like that?”

“Just like that,” I said with the hint of a chuckle. “I mean, it’s not like you said anything unjustified, considering the circumstances. What happened with Adila… there must have been another way, but I didn’t even try. I hope we can still work together, but I don’t expect you to forgive me.

“Forgive you? Adila was  _ mad _ . All that stuff about the ‘Bone Judge,’ the High Ones did that to her, not you. I don’t think there was anything you could have done to change her mind.”

“Hm. Maybe you’re right,” I said, trying my best to sound like I meant it. “Sorry, we don’t need to dwell on this. Should we stock up and head out?”

“Sure,” he agreed abruptly, ready to be done with the topic. “On to better and bright things. And stop apologizing.”

Xxx

“So, which one is your favorite?” I asked teasingly.

“Excuse me?” Jespar replied, brows raised.

Our mood had improved considerably since landing in Wellwatch, our regular banter resumed, even if there was a bit more rot underneath it now.

“At the Silver Cloud, of course. Don’t tell me you just let the Mistress sort it out, there must be one or two ladies you favor -- or lads, I suppose.”

“You’re throwing that in my face  _ now _ ? Seriously?”

“No one’s throwing anything. I’m just curious. I’ve always gotten on pretty well with Zetta -- she knows quite a lot about herbology, especially where aphrodisiacs are concerned -- and Kit’s a good time too. Very musical.”

“You know Zetta?” He scoffed disbelievingly.

“Sure. Why do you think I paid her so much to leave us alone?”

“I -- I don’t believe it. Ms. ‘never been in love,’ Prophetess of the Order, spends her evenings in the Silver Cloud.”

“Well they’re not selling love, are they? And why’s that such a surprise, do I really seem like such a light-born temple dweller to you?”

“Not exactly, but you said you grew up on a farm, there must have been plenty of light there,” he laughed.

“In the beginning, maybe. But Ostian’s built on sand, so it’s Undercity is right out there in the streets. Much easier to find a fence, honestly. Or at least it was, before they all got sacrificed to the Creator. Pickpocketing must be such a pain in Ark, really,” I mused, “Have to go  _ all  _ the way up to the Markets and then  _ all  _ the way back down again just to sell anything.”

“Huh, I never thought about that. I guess that could definitely eat into your day. Is that how you met Sirius?”

“Yeah. We worked for the same Broodmaster. Used to split our earnings so we could make our minimums when we came up short -- that’s how you knew someone was real,” I said almost wistfully. Not for the situation, obviously, but for Sirius. His company.

“Sounds like a true friend.”

“Yeah, he was. I don’t think either of us would have left Nehrim without the other’s hopes. Or delusions. Whichever.”

“Then he has my thanks. I’m glad you made it.”

I smiled softly and looked out onto the vista of bright orange leaves ahead of us.

“That’s not it, is it?” Jespar asked, pointing toward a tumble of ruins further down the valley. I’d imagined something smaller, a hut or even just a camp, maybe.

“I don’t think so,” I replied skeptically, “But it’s worth checking out.”

We climbed down into the valley until we reached reached what remained of a small stone manor house. The roof had collapsed in on the second floor and shattered glass from the windows lined the perimeter.

We fell silent, and I opened the worn wooden door, stepped into a foyer built floor to ceiling with darkly shining wood.

The talisman hummed against my chest. 

“I think we found the right place,” I said as I crept forward, peeking around the corner into the next room. A pair of emerald wingback chairs faced a fireplace, where a bed of seething embers warmed a hock of ham.

I wrinkled my nose at the stench. I couldn’t stand pork.

“Mm, can’t beat that aroma,” Jespar said, sidling up beside me. “But yeah, something definitely off here.”

The front door slammed shut as if to punctuation his statement. He went to and twisted the knob.

“Jammed. Of course,” he observed dryly.

“Well, I guess the only way out is--” I stopped, transfixed by the painting above the fireplace. That was it. That was home. A warm wooden shack amidst lush hill and valleys. I stepped closer, not believing my eyes.

Yes, there was even a little man chopping wood in the yard outside. A shrouded statue of the creator god in the distance.

“I… was this here before?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. I don’t think any of this is here.”

“Right,” I reminded myself. The talisman kept humming.

Something brushed past my leg. I jumped, and it ran into the other room squealing.

“What the hell?”

“Was that a pig?” Jespar asked, starting toward the next room. There was no pig, but there was a small library, packed to bursting with books of a dozen colors and kinds.

Jespar pulled one off the nearest shelf. Flipped it open. Paused.

“The Nutritiousness of Meat,” he began.

“What?” I asked, sinking.

“Yeah, it says ‘Meat is life. Even the ash people--”

“I know what it says,” I snapped, snatching it out of his hands. “Put that away.”

“Relax! It’s just a book,” he shot back archly, grabbing another from the shelf. “See, this one is about--” his face dropped. “Also... the nutritiousness of meat. Okay, that’s weird. But there’s got to be hundreds of books in here, there’s bound to be a couple duplicates.”

He reached for another, tossed that aside, and open a fourth.

“They’re all  _ The Nutritiousness of Meat _ , Jespar, just stop,” I said, putting a hand to my temple.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because this is an illusion, and they’re trying to scare us.”

“With some books? I mean, it’s a little creepy, sure, but that’s about it.”

“Hm. Well, it’s scary to me.”

“What makes you say--” The pig thing brushed past my leg again, squealing wildly into the next room.

“Okay, that’s enough.” I drew my sword and charged in after it. Heard it scream, almost human. And there it was, laid out on the dining room table in a dozen different pieces.

Dead. Still bleeding. Raw.

Jespar whistled as he entered the room behind me, feigning amusement.

“Tempting, but I think we’re going to pass,” Jespar called out to whoever might be listening.

“Oh, are you sure you can’t stay for dinner?” Called a sickly sweet voice out of the nothingness in the doorway at the end of the room. “It’s not often our little Evie has a chance to make friends out here.”

“This... was a mistake,” I muttered, ignoring the apparition coming down the hallway as I clung to my composure. “Let’s get out of here, go learn that spell.”

I plunged my hand into my rucksack and came back with nothing.

“Shit. Do you still have your teleportation scrolls?” I asked, eyes trained downward. Jespar reached into his bag as well, and his eyes creased with confusion.

“What? I swear I had them, there’s no way I’d--”

“Don’t you worry now, I’ll get those back to you soon as you finish eating,” Father said. I could tell from his voice that he stood at the head of the table, but I didn’t look up. Didn’t want to see his burnt, blistering face. Or worse, him before. Smiling.

“This is ridiculous. We’re leaving,” I said, moving toward the floor to ceiling window on the wall beside us. I grasped my sword in both hands, and brought it down against the glass -- but nothing happened, it just bounced off like I’d hit a wall. I probably had.

“Come on now, Eve, don’t throw a fit. Sister is coming, and you know how she likes to see you happy.” I heard him step closer, but still I kept my eyes on the window, turned away from his reflection.

“Stop talking. You’re not real.” I said through gritted teeth. The humming of the talisman told me so.

“Well that’s a terrible thing to say to your father.”

I didn’t respond.

“I said, that’s a terrible thing to--”

“We heard you the first time. Whoever’s doing this, if you’re listening--”

“Don’t interrupt me, boy!” Father snapped, his rage finally breaking through. “You kids think you can do whatever you want, don’t you, but I’m in charge here!”

He paused, frothing.

“I said, I’m in charge Eve -- look at me when I’m talking to you!”

He lashed out at me with his full power, and it should have been nothing, I should have been able to take it, but his hand tore across my face and sent me stumbling back into the wall by the shadow-filled door.

“Hey, back off!” Jespar said, rounding the table to shove him back.

I kept my hold on sword, look from it to Father. It was just him. No burns, no blood, only simmering, reasonless anger.

“And what are you going to do with  _ that _ exactly?” He asked around Jespar’s restraining arm, all fatherly teasing again. “Kill me?”

I looked down at the sword again. It was covered with blood.

“No,” I replied, fear tinging my voice as rivulets of blood ran down the blade.

“Then how are you going to stop me?”

He pushed Jespar away, stronger than he seemed, and lurched toward me. I could’ve swung at him, could’ve thrown him off his feet with a blow from my shield, but I didn’t.

I stepped back, cringed away, and fell down through the nothing dark of the doorway.

Xxx

The first thing I heard as my eyes drifted open was the tinkling of empty bottles rolling across the floor, then a crash as something shattered against the wall.

“Leave me alone, damn it! That’s all I’ve ever asked for in this life, to be left the hell alone!”

I looked up, still lying prone on the floor -- I felt like I’d been hit by a carriage -- and saw Jespar standing across from a long banquet table that filled most of the tavern. 

“And a lot of good that’s done anyone,” sneered a bearded man, one of some half dozen people seated on the far side of the table. “A man has certain responsibilities, you know -- what use is  _ seeing  _ the world if you don’t want to take care of it?”

“Oh yeah, you really took care of things,” Jespar shot back with an almost identical sneer. “I mean, there’s really nothing more admirable than chaining yourself to a lost cause and throwing yourself off a cliff on principle!”

“At least I had principles,” the man -- he must have been Jespar’s father -- replied, disappointment weighing heavy in his voice. “What do you have? Hedonism. Nihilism. All excuses to do nothing.”

“Whatever you say old man,” Jespar muttered, turning away from the table to investigate one of the two doors at either end of the room. “I’ve run through this conversation enough times in my head to know it’s going nowhere.”

“Well, it’s good to hear you’re thinking of someone else for a change,” said a woman in bloodstained armor, not a hint of malice in her voice. “I only wish the rest of us had been so privileged.”

“Don’t we all, Lysia,” said Adila softly. The madness was gone from her demeanor -- or rather, hadn’t yet been planted -- in favor of bookish reserve. “Abdicating your responsibilities doesn’t make them go away, brother, it only foists them upon someone else.”

“I didn’t… I  _ tried  _ to be there for you, Adila, when we were kids,” Jespar said hoarsely, not turning away from the door. “I tried to be your brother, but all you wanted was those stupid books. What was I supposed to do, sit there and agonize over ancient family history with you? What good does that do anyone?”

“I suppose,” Adila said, eye shining sadly. “But what about later? Maybe if you’d made a bit more time for me admist your world travles, you would have noticed the change. Helped me realize the path the black pearl was taking me down was wrong…”

“And then I wouldn’t have had to kill you,” said the me at the table, as if I still couldn’t believe it had happened.

“Don’t blame yourself, mydame,” Jespar’s father said gravely. “Someone had to clean up after his mess.”

“Right. Well, that’s what I’m good for, cleaning up other people’s messes!” The me at the table joked lamely. “Right Jespar?”

“Hermit’s ass,” Jespar muttered, cursing as he worked on the door with his knife.

“Don’t worry,” the other me said flippantly, “You can lose your temper again. What was that one line? Something about how I’m too ugly to make it as a cheap whore--”

“I never said that!”

“It’s fine, Jespar. We’re good,” said the other me, eyes glittering with good humor. “I mean, I deserve it--”

“What did you ever do to deserve that?” Jespar shouted back, whipping around at last to face the other me. “Ever since I met you, you’ve been running around like some kind of whipping girl, practically begging people to throw your life away for the cause of the moment. What’s the--”

“Excuse me?” I interrupted, forcing my aching body up off the floor. The other me vanished.

“I -- you’re awake!” Jespar rushed over and helped me to my feet.

“Yeah. Are we still in the house?”

“I think so,” he replied, distracted. “I followed you through that doorway, and this is where we ended up, anyway. Must be part of the illusion.”

“Right,” I said, looking past him toward Jespar’s accusers at the table. They had just the slightest shimmer about the edges now, as if having something to focus on in the moment had weakened the illusions’ hold on him. “But there’s always a way out of an illusion as long as you remember it isn’t real -- I read that once. We just need to--”

The door to our right swung open, creaking ominously.

“Something tells me that’s not the way out,” Jespar observed, exhaustion lining his face.

“Stick together. We just need to stick together.” I said, repeating it like a mantra as we stepped through the doorway and back into the foyer.

“This is encouraging…” Jespar said, moving toward the front door. It opened under his hand like nothing at all, revealing the Wellwatch wilds beyond. “Come on, let’s get out of here!”

“Don’t have to tell me twi--” the twittering of birds, and a familiar glint of sunlight bloomed about the edge of a set of doubledoors that had appeared in the far wall of the foyer.

“You go, I have to find the apothecari,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth all on their own.

“What? I’m not leaving you here. The door is open, let’s go!”

“I can’t,” I said, and knew at once it was true. Already, something was walking me toward the door. Jespar, he could resist the illusion’s pull -- part of him simply knew it wasn’t real, and the illusion, whoever was casting it, knew that. It was sending him away. But me, I was weak. I had to go, but that didn’t mean I had to bring him with me. Didn’t mean I had to let him see.

I opened the door and moved through it, pulling it shut after me.

Xxx

Inside was a ballroom with a domed ceiling and high windows, through which the sun of Nehrim’s southern coast lit the room. At its center was home sweet home, our humble abode teetering atop a cross section of hill like a prop left on stage to rot.

I moved toward it, that ever-present sense of inevitability fueling my every step. I knew what I would find there, but where else was there to go?

I went up the path, and there was father. Only this time, mother and sister were waiting with him too. Behind them, three fat hams were drying in the window.

“Ah, there you are Evie. Well, the choice is yours: would you like to kill us now, or later? You’re welcome to play with sister a while if helps you get in character.”

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t look so glum. It’ll be so much easier this time now that you’ve got that fancy sword!”

I tried to step back, but I couldn’t move. I should’ve left when I had the chance, I realized, but now it was too late.

“I’m not going to do that,” I muttered, trying not to look at them.

“Well gee, that sure is brave of you! Look honey, Eve’s not going to kill us!”

Mother just looked at me, that expressionless bag still tied over her head.

“I’m not,” I said, desperation creeping into my voice. “I  _ didn’t _ .”

“That’s a bit of a stretch now, don’t you think? I mean, you gutted us, like pigs for the slaughter, all because some mage put a little whisper in your head.”

“No,” I whispered.

“It’s okay, just admit it. Do what you came here to do!”

“No!” I shouted. I threw my sword away and dropped to my knees, covering my ears with my hands. ““I won’t do it. I didn’t do it,” I moaned.

A foot hit my side, and then a second kick, and another. I could see them gathered about me in my peripheral vision, beating me, goading me.

“Come on now, it won’t take much!” Father cried, and as his boot connected with my ribs, the talisman hummed hot against my chest, and in a brief flash I perceived the world as it was -- he was the only real thing, the apothecari, eyes glowing red with madness.

I pulled a dagger from my belt and, just as I had the night my childhood ended, slashed it across his throat, screaming.

“Rynéus' Dal’Geyss, where is he? Now!” I yelled, my voice raw. I leaned in close and, in her madness, Averil gurgled out an answer before she fell back and died, releasing the barriers that had held back Jespar from entering the center of the ruin.

“Wise hermits ass, that was insane!”

I didn’t answer, just breathed. In, out. In, out.

“I… I take it that was your family?”

I froze.

“You saw that?”

“Parts of it, yeah. I was out of the illusion but also… not.”

I just sat, my head pounding. Uncorked a healing potion and drank.

“Maybe this is overstepping, but… I understand. The guilt, I mean. That you survived and they didn’t. It’s a lot to handle.”

“It’s not the same thing,” I said blandly.

“I know the situations weren’t  _ exactly  _ identical but--”

“I told myself you understood, because you’d been to Nehrim, but I knew that was lying to myself, because you didn’t react enough.”

I took a breath, and pushed on. Because I cared about him too much not to give him a choice about the kind of company he kept.

“In the part of the Southernrealms that I’m from, saying ‘the Cult of the Creator killed my family’ is just a euphemism -- it means  _ I  _ killed them. It’s how they recruit people. They get in your head with psionics, have you destroy everyone you love, and then convince you the Creator made you do it, that it was the only way to make you see humanity for what it is: nothing more than meat. And then sometimes they eat the hearts, apparently, but I don’t remember that part.”

“That’s… terrible. How did you get away?”

“I don’t know. I was there, and then I was somewhere else. In Ostian.”

“Well, maybe that’s for the best. Either way, you got free,” he said. Paused, then, “And you’re wrong. I did know that. Or at least, I suspected that’s what you meant. I didn’t react because I know you didn’t do anything wrong. Your family was taken from you, same as mine.”

I wanted to argue, but there didn’t seem to be a point. Either he understood, or he didn’t, but he knew the truth. I wasn’t going to press the point.

“Right, well, let’s get out of here. No use dwelling on the past.”

“Couldn’t agree more, fair lady.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may have misinterpreted some lines about survivor's guilt early on in the game, but the backstory for my Prophetess (Eve) was always that she really did kill her family -- unwillingly, as part of some kind of cult ritual involving psionics. I might rework the ending at some point, but that I've probably spent too much time on this already!


End file.
